The South Street Seaport Chorus Tree
by madpeoplesaidalice
Summary: Team Machine upholds a special Christmas tradition. Featuring Carter, Shaw, Finch, Reese, Fusco, and Root. Originally posted as part of PoI Advent Calendar.
1. Chapter 1

**The South Street Seaport Chorus Tree, Chapter One**

 **A** _ **Person of Interest**_ **fan fiction**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this story, "Present Day" is December of Season Four.**

Last Year

Sameen Shaw sat on her stool, drinking her beer and looking out the window at Christmas lights already adorning the storefronts, even though it was only the middle of November. _Gotta start early with the capitalism, I guess_ , she thought, grimacing to herself. She turned to look at her companion, who was also looking out the window.

Shaw liked people with whom she could sit in comfortable silence; Joss Carter was one of those. But, as much as the quiet was easy for Shaw, she was determined to get to know Carter better. She'd been sucked into this team/family, and if these weren't people she could try to relate to, she didn't know who would be.

"So Carter," Shaw began, taking another pull on her beer, "you celebrate Christmas, right?"

Carter took a sip of her own beer, using it to mask her surprise. Religion, holidays, family, these were things she never discussed with Shaw. She'd always figured the former medical student didn't want to talk about it. But if she was going to make the effort to ask, the least Carter could do was answer.

"Yeah, I do. When I was a kid, it was a big family celebration, but most of the time now, it's just me and Taylor."

Shaw hesitated, unsure of what to say next, then asked, "Do you have any…I don't know, special traditions?"

Carter couldn't help but laugh a little at Shaw's discomfort. That she was trying was funny, but also very sweet. "Well, nothing we do on Christmas Day is all that special. Our most unique tradition is…do you know the Christmas tree at the South Street Seaport?"

"I haven't lived in New York that long," Shaw answered.

"Right, of course," Carter said. "Well, down at South Street Seaport, by the East, there's this big Christmas tree. They call it the Chorus Tree because there's singing groups that perform there every weekend during the Christmas season. Taylor and I go down and visit every year, on a Thursday night in the week or two before Christmas. It's not so crowded that way. And we each get to open one present while we're there."

"That sounds nice," Shaw said, enjoying this chance to see a softer side of Carter. The woman was a hell of a shot and could stand up to Reese like no one else, and Shaw admired these qualities in her. But she was also a mom, one who loved her son very much, and Shaw could admire that too.

"It is," Carter replied. Laughing, she continued, "I bet Taylor's getting to where he wishes he could take a pretty girl to a Christmas tree this year and not his mom, but too bad for him because we're still going to go."

Shaw chuckled at this in her dry way. She was glad to get the chance to sit at a bar with Carter, away from the boys, and relax. She made a good relaxing companion.

Drinking the last of her beer and noticing that the detective was nearly done with hers, Shaw stood and said, "I'm getting another. You want one? On me."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd better get home to that son of mine. Who knows what he's up to now," Carter drawled.

"Fair enough," Shaw said. "Have a good night."

"You too, Shaw," Carter replied. "Thank you for this. We'll do it again soon."

"Sure, after our next kneecap job," Shaw deadpanned.

Carter laughed as she walked out the door. Shaw turned her gaze back to the decorated storefronts, all adorned with Christmas cheer.


	2. Chapter 2

**The South Street Seaport Chorus Tree, Chapter Two**

 **A** _ **Person of Interest**_ **fan fiction**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this story, "Present Day" is December of Season Four.**

Two Years Ago

"I thought I might find you here," Carter said, sitting down in the chair opposite the reclusive billionaire she'd come to speak to.

"Do you play, Detective?" Harold asked, absently petting Bear, whose head had risen at the arrival of their companion.

Carter looked at the chessboard placed between them on the table. It would be a good day to sit in the park and play chess; though it was the middle of December, it wasn't too cold, and there was no risk of wind knocking over the pieces. "I play very badly. I'd rather not sit here and be defeated."

Finch's gentle smile graced his features as he said, "Fair enough. So, what is it you require? I would posit you didn't leave work for no reason, and I now know that the reason was not to play chess."

Carter gave a small smile. She liked talking to this man. Sure, he was a little odd, but he was whip-smart and very little got past him. These were qualities she admired, and they made him a delightful conversation partner if she was in the right mood. She also saw how much he cared about people. Obviously he believed in what they did and in helping humanity as a whole, but he also showed affection for John in his own unique way and he extended great kindness to those people they found who were victims. Indeed, Harold Finch (thought she wasn't sure that was his real name) was a man she held in high regard.

What the detective might not have guessed was that Finch felt the same way about her. He found this woman to be fiercely intelligent, but she did not let this intellect make her superior. She was kind to everyone and marvelous at determining the best way to speak with people. He admired her strength; he always thought it could not have been easy to be a woman in the Army nor to be a female homicide detective. But she had a softness about her too, evident much of the time when she was with John and at any moment that she was speaking about her son. Harold found the detective incredible, and he was very glad to have her on their side.

"Two nights from now, I'm going to be out of commission. Don't call me for anything. If you need police material, you'd better get Fusco, because I am busy," Carter said, looking him straight in the eye.

A bit of a smirk snuck its way onto Harold's face at the detective's stern tone. "Noted, Detective. I will not attempt to reach you. May I ask why?"

"Frankly, I'm surprised you don't already know. Usually you're all over my business," Carter replied, an eyebrow raised.

Finch didn't have a response to that, knowing that he couldn't give her any more information than he already had regarding his ability to know what was going on in her life, or in the lives of a variety of people. He simply waited quietly, continuing to pet Bear. If she wanted to tell him, she would.

"Taylor and I are going to the Christmas tree at the South Street Seaport. It's a tradition we have," Carter said. Though she'd had a teasing tone before, she couldn't help but smile genuinely when she thought about this Christmas tradition with her son.

"The South Street Seaport. That's the Chorus Tree, isn't it? Is there a group performing on Thursday nights?" Harold asked.

Detective Carter chuckled. "No, there isn't. That's why we always go on Thursday. Less crowded. You actually feel like it's okay to stand there for a while, not like you have to immediately get out of the way because other people want to see the tree. It's nice, and it allows us to do a little gift exchange."

"Well, I would never wish to infringe on a Christmas tradition you have with your son. You will be considered off limits Thursday evening," Finch said with all sincerity. He knew being a mother gave the detective a feeling of normalcy, and what could be more normal than a family Christmas celebration?

"Thank you, Finch. It means a lot." Carter hesitated a moment, then briefly laid her hand on top of the one Finch had resting on the table. After a few seconds, she broke the contact and stood up. "Well, back to work."

"Merry Christmas, Joss," Harold said.

"Merry Christmas to you, Harold," the detective said, smiling widely. And with that, she turned and walked away.

Finch checked his watch and realized it was later than he thought. He stood, said, "Bear _komen_ ," and began his walk back to the library, his faithful dog by his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**The South Street Seaport Chorus Tree, Chapter Three**

 **A** _ **Person of Interest**_ **fan fiction**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this story, "Present Day" is December of Season Four.**

Two Years Ago

John Reese and Joss Carter sat in the car, waiting for a number to leave a bar. The sitting around waiting part of a stakeout was never very interesting, and Reese was glad of the company. Even if they weren't talking, it was nice to have someone there with him.

"So what did this guy do?" Carter asked, a little fuzzy on why they were there. Neither Harold nor John was famous for their ability to give details.

"We're not sure yet," John answered, eyes trained on the bar's door. He wasn't sure if he could tell Carter any more, though he would like to.

Reese understood why Finch kept everything so under wraps. It made sense. And as he was fond of saying, Harold was a very private person. But often, especially when they were sitting on stakeouts like this, he wished he could tell Carter more about what it was that they did. He trusted her with his life; he felt like he could trust her with The Machine. But it was a tricky point. She had that high moral character that The Machine might have conflicted with.

But Reese didn't mind Carter's high moral character. In fact, it was one of the things he liked best about her. It was admirable, and perhaps more impressive was that it wasn't just a set of standards she liked to speak about upholding. She actually upheld them. She actually was that good a person. It's why he knew he could always count on her. Because she was too good to ever let him fall too far.

After sitting in the silence of Reese's last vague statement for a while, Carter spoke again. "So, I already told Finch this, but I'll tell you too. Tomorrow I'm going to be out, so if you need any help, you're going to have to call Fusco."

"Guess I just won't need any help then," John said.

Carter rolled her eyes and then said, "That's fine too. But I'm going to be with Taylor, and there's nothing taking me away from that."

"I wouldn't want to," John replied. He loved the way Carter's eyes lit up when she talked about her son. "You and Taylor doing something special?"

"Christmas tradition," she answered, and sure enough, her eyes got bright. "Every year since he was born, Taylor and I go to the South Street Seaport Christmas Tree on a Thursday night. We look at the lights and exchange one gift. It's a special night for both of us. He's loved it, ever since he was little. He used to be so amazed by how big the tree is. He's less amazed now, but he still thinks it's pretty. At least, I think he still thinks it's pretty. He doesn't say so much. But he agreed to go this year. And we get to open a present early, so that wins him over."

Carter was surprised she had spoken so much. She liked John, and despite all his violence, she thought he was a pretty good guy. But normally she didn't go on like that. Maybe it had something to do with how much Reese looked like he wanted to listen. She opened her mouth, ready to apologize for over-sharing.

Before she could speak, John said, "That sounds wonderful. He's lucky to have a mom who does something like that for him."

"I'm the lucky one," Carter said, smiling gently.

"I won't call you tomorrow. Enjoy your time with Taylor," John murmured.

Carter smiled again, this time more directed at Reese than anywhere else. "Thanks. And hey, I'm sure you won't need me."

"I wanted you here now, didn't I?" Reese asked rhetorically. Both blushed a little at the connotation of his words, then, all professional again, turned their eyes back on the door of the bar.


	4. Chapter 4

**The South Street Seaport Chorus Tree, Chapter Four**

 **A** _ **Person of Interest**_ **fan fiction**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this story, "Present Day" is December of Season Four.**

Last Year

"—And the wrapping paper is off every one of the presents!" Lionel Fusco exclaimed amidst belly laughs.

Across their desks in the bullpen, his partner Joss Carter was laughing too. "I don't believe you," she said between chuckles.

"Come on, Carter. Hand to God, this kid, not five years old, is sitting on the floor, wrapping paper everywhere, yukking it up, thinking it's hilarious. And my ex is just livid. And ever since, Lee thinks Christmas is the perfect time to goof off," Lionel said, still laughing.

"Yeah, and I'm sure he doesn't get that from his daddy," Carter said deliberately.

Fusco replied, "Hey, I don't encourage him. I mean, I don't discourage him, but I don't encourage him. My ex used to think that was part of the problem. She claims that I can put up with him at Christmas, and she'll take Thanksgiving. So no, I don't get to see him this week. But I get him for the whole week before Christmas."

Carter stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes and looking down. This was a rare moment for her and Fusco, where neither was off doing other things. They both were working on paperwork for recent cases, not chasing down HR or doing some strange task for Reese and Finch. And she was grateful for it.

Fusco was grateful too. At the start of their partnership, he wasn't sure if he and Carter were ever going to get along. But she had become one of his dearest friends. He loved that she could kick some ass any time she needed to, and he knew she always had his back. And he wanted her to know he always had hers. They'd been in their fair share of scrapes, but they'd always come out on top. They made a good team.

"So, what about you and Taylor?" Fusco asked. He loved that they could talk about their sons.

"Taylor is a good boy. He does not pull wrapping paper off presents before he's supposed to," Carter said, smirking at her partner all the while.

"Yeah, yeah, I get the gist," Fusco said, feigning irritation. "I mean, what do you guys do for the holidays?"

Carter rolled her eyes once again and said, "Yeah, I figured that. Well, Thanksgiving is a big family affair. It's madness. I'm not really looking forward to it. But Christmas is just us. Actually, the best thing we do for Christmas we do the Thursday before Christmas. You know the South Street Seaport Christmas Tree?"

"Down by the East? Yeah, of course I know it. That's the one with all the choirs," Fusco answered, mock-defensive of his New York background.

"The choirs are only there on the weekends. During the week, it's not so busy. So on a Thursday night before Christmas, Taylor and I go down and spend some time in front of the tree. We exchange a present too. So he unwraps it before Christmas Day, but he's allowed to," Carter said.

"Oh ha ha," Fusco said. "Sounds nice though. Too bad you miss the choir."

Carter laughed and said, "It's fine. If we want music, we sing ourselves. Though Taylor's probably a little too old to do that now. I bet he'd get embarrassed if his momma started singing gospel while we're at the tree. He's probably embarrassed just to be there with me."

"Carter, he's a teenage boy. He's definitely embarrassed just to be there with you," Fusco retorted.

Sneering at her partner, Carter looked back down at her paperwork. It was strange to be sharing this sort of thing with Fusco, but it also felt completely natural. One of the first things they had realized they had in common with one another was having a son. And they both loved their sons more than anything else. She knew she'd been smiling from ear to ear as she talked about her and Taylor's Christmas tradition. Just like Fusco had smiled big when he'd said that he spends the whole week before Christmas with Lee.

"No seriously Carter, it sounds nice. It's a sweet tradition to have," Fusco said, smiling genuinely across the desks.

"it is," Carter said, returning his smile. "Now we'd better get back to this or we're going to be drowning in paper before too long."

Both grumbled noncommittally as they returned to the paperwork on their desks. After working in silence for a few minutes, Fusco quietly started to hum "Go Tell It On The Mountain," shooting furtive glances at his partner.

Without looking up, she said, "You'd better stop that."

"Just feeling that gospel Christmas spirit," Fusco said teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah," Carter said, her eyes still down.

But a few moments later, she was humming along.


	5. Chapter 5

**The South Street Seaport Chorus Tree, Chapter Five**

 **A** _ **Person of Interest**_ **fan fiction**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this story, "Present Day" is December of Season Four.**

Present Day

Night had fallen on Thursday, December 17, and it was the perfect day for a little Christmas celebration, the kind of day New York chose to give its residents some Decembers. It had been snowing lightly off and on all day, and there was a gentle dusting of powder on everything. But despite that, it wasn't too cold, and there was barely a trace of wind. People were bundled up in hats and scarves, but there was no frigid cold to need protection from.

Crossing the street, Harold Finch arrived at the foot of the large South Street Seaport Christmas Tree, moving briskly despite his limp. Bear trotted along beside him, happy as always to be out and about. While Finch held the leash in his left hand, in his right was a rectangular gift, impeccably wrapped in blue and silver paper. He stood and stared up at the tree in front of him.

Harold was broken from his reverie by a surprising sound: a little whuff from Bear. The dog was usually quite silent. Looking to face the same direction as Bear, Harold could see that there was a very good reason for the dog to have made noise. John Reese was moving briskly towards the tree, his hand obviously around something in his pocket.

"Good evening, Detective Riley," Finch said as John came to stand next to him.

"Hello Finch," John said, working hard to hide his surprise at seeing Harold there.

About to admonish Reese for use of his real name, Finch was distracted by a slight pull on Bear's leash. He turned to call Bear back to his side and found Sameen Shaw kneeling beside the dog, petting him lovingly.

"Ms. Shaw!" Finch said in an urgent whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't worry, boys," Shaw drawled, rising from her position next to Bear but keeping herself deliberately turned a certain way. "I used the shadow map to get here. And as long as I don't look down that street, I should be fine."

Finch continued to look worried, but Reese just eyed Shaw and then nodded. He knew she could take care of herself. He couldn't keep from noticing the crumpled looking piece of brown paper protruding from her coat pocket, however, and it made him pull out the small box he'd been keeping in his pocket. It was wrapped in red paper, not perfectly, but carefully, and he was proud to have it.

"Okay, I did not expect the party," Lionel Fusco said as he walked up to the trio. He was carrying a thin rectangle, exquisitely wrapped in green paper with curled ribbons on top of it.

"Hey partner," John said in his typical laconic manner.

Finch looked around anxiously. He understood, as they all did, that they all must have been told at one time or another about Carter's tradition with this tree. However, he couldn't help but be worried. "Is it safe for all of us to be here together?"

"Oh Harry, She made sure it was safe," Root answered, appearing almost like magic beside Shaw.

Fusco flinched as she made her presence known. "Geez, Cocoa Puffs."

"Hello Lionel," Root said, smiling sweetly at him. She knew it was that sweet smile that unnerved him most.

"Miss Groves, what do you mean?" Finch asked.

Root gazed at Finch, her eyes earnest, "Well, She didn't know exactly where you all were going, but She knew it was important. And She knew that what She could do was keep you all safe."

"What's she going on about now? Who's this She?" Fusco mumbled.

Ignoring him, Shaw bore down on Root. "If She didn't know where we were going, how did you?"

Suddenly turning flirtatious, Root turned her sweet smile on Shaw, "Oh, I followed you, sweetie. I know, I know, you can take care of yourself, but, well, I worry. We can't have our fun if something happens to you."

Finch blushed pink at that insinuation and Fusco took a step back. He wasn't likely to admit it, but those two scared him a little bit. Reese, to his credit, was focused only on the tree, holding his gift. Shaw was offended that Root had followed her, but at least it was only Root, not someone who wished her harm.

"So what are we all doing here?" Root asked, surveying her companions. "And why do you all have presents?"

There was a moment of silence and some awkward shuffling. No one was sure who would best answer her question. Ultimately it was John who spoke up, in the matter-of-fact tone that he typically used when speaking to Root. "Joss Carter, who was part of our…team until last year, she came here every year with her son."

When he let out a large exhale, Shaw took over. "She said they would exchange one gift here with each other, so I guess we all got her a gift."

About to make a quip, Root realized that this was not the time or the place. Switching her tone to genuine, she asked, "So what did you all get her? If you're sharing, I mean."

Shaw took the amorphous brown paper blob out of her coat pocket. It was sloppy, but it was true that no one could tell what the gift might be.

"Let me guess, you wrapped that yourself," Reese deadpanned.

Shaw shot him a withering glare and then unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small holster with a hook. "It's for her Mini. She once complained to me that it was impossible to find if she put it into a slightly large purse or if it fell down her boot. See, this has a hook so that she could attach it and grab the gun quickly if she needed to. She was a hell of a shot with that thing."

Wrapping Bear's leash around his wrist, Harold held out his gift.

"You wrapped this yourself too, didn't you?" Reese deadpanned once again.

Finch looked a bit bemused while Shaw shot daggers with her eyes at Reese once again. Carefully opening the paper, Harold revealed a beautiful leather bound book.

"It's a collection of poems by T.S. Eliot. Detective Carter once mentioned to me that 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' was her favorite poem, and so I thought it appropriate," Harold said.

After looking away from the book, thinking that soon he would have to borrow it and read some of the poetry, John took the paper off his gift. He opened the small square box and revealed a ring.

From a momentary glance, Shaw was able to determine and say, "That's a bullet."

Reese nodded. "The ring's custom made from a bullet that was very important to me. To her. To us." He had nothing else to say, but he kept his eyes down as he stared at the bullet that had once signified the end of his life but came to signify it starting over.

"I guess it's my turn," Fusco said, starting to tear the paper off his present.

"I know you did not wrap that yourself," Shaw said.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Fusco retorted. After a pause, he admitted, "They wrapped it at the store."

Once all the paper was off, the other four were able to see that it was an engraved picture frame. The top said 'Taylor Joseph Carter' and the bottom 'As long as we got each other.'

"Carter had this one picture of her and Taylor that she always kept in her wallet. She would pull her wallet out all the time just to look at it. I thought maybe she could put it in this frame and put the frame on her desk. Then that way she could look at it all the time without having to deal with the wallet." He paused, collecting his thoughts, then went on, "One time she told me that that was what she always said to Taylor. That they would be fine as long as they had each other. So I thought…" Fusco trailed off, not trying to disguise the fact that his voice was full of emotion.

Root looked around at all of them, clinging to their gifts like lifelines. She could see it on their faces how dear this woman was to them; how Lionel's apprehension had slipped away as he talked about her, how Harold had lit up from the inside. How her Shaw (though perhaps she couldn't call her that quite yet) was smiling sadly, two emotions she mostly failed to experience. And John. She could see it most on John, who Root was not famous for liking, but who had fallen head over heels for this woman, someone who had touched all their lives.

The five of them stood silently, staring at the tree. Even Bear seemed to have his focus there. Then Root said, partially trying to make a joke, "I didn't get her a present. I didn't know this tradition was happening."

She paused, then continued, "But I am grateful to her, for what she did for Hanna."

They all heard the quiet sound in her voice, as if it were being torn in two. Without entirely realizing it, Shaw took a step closer to Root, her protective instinct kicking in. Root knew it was not meant to comfort, but she decided she could take it as such.

Root cleared her throat and said, "It's obvious you all loved her very much. I wish I could've met her."

The team was quiet for another moment, thinking about what Root had said and their own feelings. Then Shaw murmured, "You would have liked her." She couldn't resist the smirk that crossed her face as she went on, "But she would've hated you."

At that, one loud guffaw escaped Fusco as Harold's mouth stretched in a smile that reached his eyes. Even John couldn't help but break his stoic manner with a smirk of his own. Shaw glanced at Root sidelong, and found a matching simper on the taller woman's face.

Everyone's gaze returned to the tree, and it was then that Fusco noticed the angel perched on top. With his eyes still focused on that and a refrain of 'Go Tell It On The Mountain' running through his head, he said softly, "Merry Christmas, Carter."

The rest of the team gently echoed, "Merry Christmas," and they began to walk away, each tucking their heads against the snow that was lightly beginning to fall once again.


End file.
